


Hogback Wood, Not Quite Christmas

by bethagain



Series: December Stories [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bonfire, Christmas, Friendship, Gen, Imagination, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: It's Christmas Eve day and the Them are out for a walk in Hogback Wood. A little story about friendship, warmth, and the good kind of human imagination.
Series: December Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561195
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33
Collections: Aziraphale's Library Festive Fic Recs





	Hogback Wood, Not Quite Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 of the the 31 Days of Ineffables advent fic challenge, started by [drawlight](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Today's prompt was _fire_.

The Them were bundled up in coats and hats and scarves. Their feet, in thick socks and boots, kicked at fallen leaves along the trail through Hogback Wood.

Pepper had given in to a pink dyed hat with a red pom-pom, but only because the one thing dumber than conceding to society’s demands about femininity was freezing to death in the process of defying them. Her eyes peeked out above the muffler wrapped around her face. “Why,” she asked, voice a little fuzzy through the wool, “does Christmas have to be so cold?”

“It’s not Christmas _yet,_ ” said Wensleydale. “It’s not really Christmas until tomorrow.”

Brian, who had one hand in his coat pocket because he’d already lost a glove in the half hour since leaving his house, used his teeth to push back the coat sleeve on his other arm and looked at his watch. “It’s only two o’clock, so it’s not even Christmas Eve yet.” He paused. “Does Christmas Eve count as Christmas? It’s got Christmas in the name. I think it should count.”

“I don’t think it’s Christmas until you get your presents,” said Adam, “and that’s not until Christmas morning. I think there’s a rule.”

“There’s no rule,” said Pepper. “Some people’s families give presents on Christmas eve.”

Adam had an answer for that. “Do _you_ get presents on Christmas eve?”

“No.”

“Well then,” said Adam. “See? Just because some people break the rule, doesn’t mean it’s not a rule.”

“That’s not actually a logical argument, Adam,” said Wensleydale. There was a moment of silence while everyone wondered if it would turn into a fight. 

“Who needs logic?” Adam laughed. “It’s Christmas!” 

“It’s freezing, is what it is,” said Pepper. “Whose idea was it to come out here today?”

It had been everyone’s idea, in fact. Their parents were busy cooking, cleaning, wrapping last-minute presents. At ten years old (except Wensleydale, who was nine-and-a-half), they were old enough to help, but eventually they’d all been banished to go play at someone else’s house so the adults could get things done. 

Given the choice to be underfoot while grown-ups scurried about or get out into the fresh air and see if there were any icicles on the trees, the decision was an easy one. 

“We could make a fire.” Brian kicked at a branch that had fallen across the trail. “That’s what explorers did to get warm in the winter.”

“We can’t make a fire without matches.” Wensleydale wasn’t just being the sensible one. They’d tried, on and off all summer, to make fire by rubbing sticks together. They’d tried making a bow out of a stick and some string. They’d tried hitting a knife against flint, although whether any of the rocks around there were actually flint was an open question. 

What they’d discovered, through all of these experiments, was that if the Them wanted fire, they needed matches. 

They’d had some, too, over the summer, but since school had started up again and the days had gotten shorter, they didn’t spend so much time at the quarry and firemaking had faded out of their daily lives. By this time, nobody remembered whether any of their supply of matchbooks had matches left in them. 

“Well, that’s not going to work.” Pepper held up a tin can, turned it over, and rust-colored water poured out along with several soggy matchbooks. The Them stood in a half-circle around her, looking sadly down at them and shivering. Nobody said it out loud, but the words seemed to hang in the air anyway: _I guess we could go home._

“Nah,” said Adam, as if someone _had_ said it. “I know what we’re going to do. We’re going to build a fire anyway.”

“But Adam,” Wensleydale began, but Adam was already off running toward a toward a fallen tree limb, clambering up onto it to start breaking off branches.

“Well, come on!” he called back at them. “We can’t have our fire without wood!”

Pepper and Brian shrugged at each other. Adam was crazy, but that was nothing new. Sometimes you just had to go with Adam’s crazy idea for a while, until suddenly it was fun.

“Pepper, you and Brian go find some big pieces. Wensleydale, you start picking up twigs. We’re going to have the biggest bonfire you ever saw!” 

They did as he said, gathering up twigs and sticks, dragging meter-long pieces back toward the quarry where old chairs made a sort of living room among the gravel and junk.

“C’mon,” Adam called, “Hurry, let’s get our fire going!”

Soon, the sticks and branches were piled up, with a stack of smaller bits in the center. Pepper’s muffler had come unwound from her face. She shoved it in a coat pocket, ends trailing. Wensleydale’s ear-flapped hat was tossed aside in one of the old milk crates. 

“Time to light it, everyone stand back!” Adam made a great show of lighting a match--never mind that there were no matches--and tossing it in among the twigs. “Give it a minute…” He crouched down, blew on the non-existent flames. 

“We better fan it, get it going really good. Everybody help!” And Adam was so in earnest about it that everybody did join in, waving their arms with hands out flat to create a breeze, bending down to blow on the coals, running around to the other side when the wind blew the smoke too thick.

Pretty soon Wensleydale had his coat open. Brian’s other glove lay on the ground, far enough away so it wouldn’t get burned up. Pepper’s pink hat was shoved in her other pocket.

“Whew!” Suddenly, Adam declared the fire properly lit. He dragged over one of the chairs, flopped down on it, and held his hands out toward the flames. “It’s a good fire, isn’t it?”

It was. The rest of the Them dragged chairs over, too. They sat there together, nice and warm, as the afternoon edged closer to properly being Christmas Eve. 

They toasted imaginary marshmallows. They called out shapes they saw in the flames. Brian and Wensleydale got into it a bit over whether that was an elephant or a dinosaur, but it turned out ok once Pepper pointed out that it was, in fact, a dragon. 

After a while, Pepper’s hat came back out of her pocket, and she wound her scarf around her neck. Wensleydale fetched his hat from the milk crate. Brian had to look around a bit for his glove, but he found it and put it back on. 

“That was a good fire,” Adam said, as his own teeth started to chatter. “Looks like it’s just about out, now.”

Everyone nodded, stretched out their hands one last time, watched the embers die down to a glow. 

“You’re supposed to stay with a fire until it’s all the way out,” said Wensleydale.

‘I think this one’s ok,” said Pepper, but not teasing though, and Wensleydale said, “Yes, actually, I think you’re right.”

They walked home through the late afternoon, the shadows getting long and the path getting dark beneath the trees. By the time they got to the edge of the village, Christmas trees were glowing behind windows and fairy lights were twinkling in the dusk. 

It would be warm inside, with hot chocolate probably, and nice suppers, and official present-opening in the morning. And in the afternoon, for sure, they’d see each other again, compare notes on who got what, and figure out a new adventure.


End file.
